Darned Tie
by Kerrison
Summary: Post ep for "The Tough Man in the Tender Chicken". It was all about that damned tie -- when she took it off, like she had every right in the world.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Many thanks to adangeli for her help and friendship. She's awesome, folks. If you haven't read her stuff, go do it. Now. Run along! Forget this drivel I've written- her stuff is MUCH ****MUCH better. **

* * *

This was never going to work.

Angela never would have been brazen enough to stand on the platform and undo his tie. She'd think about it, and she'd cock an eyebrow in his direction. His eyes would twinkle in reply knowing it was friendly flirting he'd come to expect from Angela. But she'd never actually do it.

Cam, Cam knew better; she knew that the mere thought of 'let me undo that knot for you' was nudging open a door they both knew was best left firmly closed.

But no, Bones just reached up and slid the precisely done knot right off his neck as if she undressed him every night.

And his breath had stilled in his throat the minute her fingers had worked the knot loose.

He had spared a quick glance at Hodgins and the amused look on the scientists face reminded Booth why he had given up gambling; his poker face had gotten worse over the years.

He forced himself. Inhale. Exhale.

Despite the intent, to mimic the actions of the killer, the feel of her hand gently caressing his cheek nearly had him undone.

Somehow he made it through the day. He imagined it was through sheer will that he was able to keep his hormones in check.

But that night, when he got home and changed into his civilian clothes, as he unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way his memory flicked back to her touch as she took the first step to undressing him.

He flopped back onto his bed with a groan.

The moments, the eye contact, the long gazes – they had gotten more frequent since his surgery.

He was getting signals that, on any other woman, he'd consider signs of interest. But this was Bones. She'd take two hesitant reluctant steps forward and then a firm, intentional step back behind her walls. He didn't know what her intent was because it seemed _she _didn't know what her intent was.

Today with the damned tie, that damned touch, they were the proverbial straw. Something had to give.

This was never going to work.


	2. Chapter 2

***

The silk fabric slid through her fingers and she regarded the slim black tie with a bland expression.

She turned, dismissing the tie and the Halloween clearance table caught her eye.

Her fingers picked up Halloween socks with bones on them, knowing instantly that he'd wear them. They fit his unconscious rebellious streak year-round, not just during Halloween.

But it was the simple black silk tie that made a smile cross her lips. It was narrow and black as per his usual preferences. However, the small white bones embroidered on the bottom of the tie set it apart from his normal style.

_A tie with Bones. From Bones, _she predicted he'd say when he opened the box.

She immediately picked up the item and added it to her selection, heading to the closest department store register.

She owed him a tie.

***

She knocked on his door with little reservation. It wasn't uncommon that they show up at the other's apartment without calling first, never mind at a later hour than society typically dictated was acceptable.

She spared a cursory glance at her watch and mentally shrugged. Nine wasn't late for either of them, especially not after wrapping up a case such as the one they had this week.

_Chickens. _

Brennan shuddered.

She was certainly glad she'd decided to maintain her vegetarian lifestyle after everything they learned this week.

The door opened and Brennan felt her mouth go dry as she saw Booth's relaxed face regard her with a warm smile.

It was clear she had managed to arrive just after he had finished his shower. His hair was wet and he had managed to pull on track pants but not yet a shirt.

"Hey Bones," he said, stepping away from the door, silently inviting her in.

She moved across the threshold and her nose picked up the sent of food wafting in from the kitchen.

"Did you eat?" he asked her, heading towards the laundry-basket that set on his coffee table and pulling a t-shirt from the top.

Booth moved, pulling it over his head in deference to her presence in his apartment and she felt a momentary pang as the sight of his bare chest disappeared from view.

Brennan shook her head, trying to rid herself of the wayward thought. It was a frequent occurrence for her, ever since his surgery.

Booth saw her headshake and interpreted it as an answer to his question. "Well there's plenty," he continued, stepping into the kitchen and away from her view.

Brennan closed her eyes and tried to collect her thoughts, an act she was finding harder and harder to do in his presence.

Ever since her return from Guatemala, she found herself wanting to think less and _be _more. She wanted to talk less and just enjoy his company. Intellectually she knew he was on the road to a full recovery, as confirmed by his physicians. She knew he was the same man he was before.

But something had changed.

They looked at each other more. She found herself content to sit and merely gaze at him and be present in the moment, something she had never done before. She found that their talks strayed more towards their own lives and feelings and less towards anthropological discussions. She found that they were spending more time together but with others around, and less time on his sofa watching a movie, or at hers place having dinner.

Try as she might to deny it, to keep their relationship in the nice little box they had put it in for so long, she could no longer reconcile the facts to where she _hoped _they would lead.

They had strayed off that course a long time ago.

But it had taken a damned dream for him, and a novel for her, to show her plainly where they stood.

"Bones?" she heard a voice and she startled slightly, pulled from her thoughts.

He stood in front of her, a concerned look on his face. "You ok?" he asked, reaching up and tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

She nodded. "Yes. Sorry. I must have been lost in thought."

"Care to share?" he asked

Brennan frowned and shifted, the Macy's bag brushing her leg, reminding her of the original reason for her visit. "Oh, this is for you," she said, effectively avoiding his question as she handed him the bag.

"For me?" he asked, his eyes sparkling like she had seen Parker's do as Christmas approached.

He reached into the bag, pulling out the socks and he grinned. "These are awesome," he said, the orange socks with white bones.

"There's more," she encouraged, watching as he reached into the bag and pulled out a rectangular gift box, letting the department store bag rest on the floor.

His hands free, he opened the box and glanced at it. He swallowed quickly, and fingered the silk before he looked up, finally meeting her eyes.

"I owed you a tie," she said simply, by way of example. He had taught her long before that sometimes a few words were more powerful than the most lengthy speech.

"You did," he agreed, pulling out the black tie and draping it around his neck, the embroidered bones laying just above his waist. "How's it look?"

Brennan smiled a lop-sided grin. "Very nice," she complimented with a simple nod. "Still meets your rebellious requirement, I believe."

Booth half-shrugged and silently watched as she stepped forward and wrapped her long fingers around the silk. She pulled the sides until they were the perfect length for a Windsor knot.

She made conscious motions with her hands, not caring that he wasn't wearing a dress-shirt and there really was no point to tying the knot.

But as her fingers moved across the silk, straightening length and twisting the silk, she felt a knot that had been plaguing her unravel.

"I wouldn't want you to do that, you know," she said softly.

Booth frowned and he watched as her eyes flitted up to his face and found the confused look.

She swallowed, "Kill for me."

He felt her hands momentarily pause with her words before they resumed their motion.

"I know that it is a risk we take when we work in the field," she began, her voice softer than her normally assertive tone. "But I … hope you never have to do it," she said.

"I know, Bones," he whispered, his hand reaching up and settling gently on her shoulder. "But I would."

"And I would, too," she said, swallowing quickly around the thickness in her throat. "But that likely won't happen since you won't give me a gun."

"Bones-" he started but his words were cut off as she slowly slid her new-formed knot up into place.

Her hands didn't move, though, staying near his collarbone, unnecessarily

adjusting the tie. Her knot was perfect, as were most things she attempted.

She cleared her throat and continued. "I certainly don't want you to die for me, Booth."

"But I would, Bones" he repeated, simply.

Brennan felt her fingers tremble and she lifted one to touch his cheek in a touch similar to the one she had used at the Jeffersonian earlier that week. "I know you would. But I can't…"

She sighed and pulled her hand away.

"You're important to me," she said, having managed to find a way to keep the quiver of emotion from her voice. "And recent events have allowed me a brief glance at what it would be like without you around. And I didn't find it to be a pleasant experience at all."

She intentionally made no mention of his mock-demise several years ago, having long since reconciled that to a factor of a case and nothing more. The feelings that went with that experience had been compartmentalized and locked away.

The feelings about his surgery and near-death had not been so easy to store away, try as she might. Every day he looked at her more openly, she realized it was a result of the dream he had experienced. Every day she refrained from putting a wall between them, it was because of the story she had written while he slept.

"Bones," he started gently, sliding his hand down her arm in a gentle caress.

She rushed forward, her words covering up anything heavy she wasn't yet ready for. "I don't mean to imply that you'll live forever, Booth. That's impossible. And with the high risk factor surrounding your profession, I think that living to a ripe old age of one-hundred is highly unlikely. But that doesn't mean that you should be careless, Booth!"

He opened his mouth but she plowed on. "Parker depends on you – you're a key role-model in his life. We both know what its like to have childhoods without active parents and you can't tell me that you want him to have that experience. You're an excellent father. He _needs_ you," she paused for a breath. "The FBI certainly depends on you. You have the highest close rate they've seen in a long time, Booth. Without you, they'd go back to merely being a drain to the national budget."

He managed a small chuckle at her dry wit.

"And I - " she said continued, closing her mouth the minute she recognized what was about to cross her lips.

"And you?" he prompted after a moment of thick silence and a gaze into her wide panicked eyes.

Brennan bit her lip, a motion Booth rarely saw but immediately recognized for what it was – an attempt to keep a flood of tears at bay.

He sighed and grinned slightly, knowing this was a moment for them. One that, he was sure, would be theirs: strictly between the two of them.

"I know, Bones," he sighed, pulling her to his chest and gently wrapping his arms around her. "I love you, too," he whispered as he felt her slide his arms around him in a fierce hug. He ducked his head and kissed her temple. He felt her bury her face into his chest.

"Keep your tears off the tie, will ya?" he teased, running his hand up and down her back. "It's brand new."


End file.
